


Freckles

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Positive, Custom Hawke, Custom Male Hawke, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Happy, Happy Anders (Dragon Age), Hawke being Hawke, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 12:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Hawke is distracted and in typical Hawke fashion, derails the conversation with Anders to point out something he missed.





	Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> Just some more light fluffy Handers goodness. No real substance just sappy.

Anders was speaking. His lips formed words and sounds followed while the empty clinic repeated them back in a quiet echo and yet, Hawke still wasn't listening. Through no real fault of anyone’s, his attention was not on the conversation but on the healer’s face, straying from the little untamed wisps of blonde hair around his forehead and temples, to the light smattering of freckles that might otherwise go unnoticed unless someone was purposefully looking for them. Baser urges overrode reason then and subconsciously Wyatt reached out to gingerly trace his thumb across them, drawing constellations in the dust on his cheeks.

The sounds of chatter ceased and was replaced by a familiar sigh. When a hand closed around his, gently pulling it away, Hawke shook the stars from his eyes and refocused. 

“Hawke?” Was it concern or curiosity that elevated his voice to a higher pitch? Anders called his name and searched his face for answers. The way his dark brows furrowed when he was irritated spoke loud enough that he needn’t explain. “You stopped listening. In fact, you were staring at me like-”

“Freckles,” Hawke proclaimed with a coy smile, jovial laughter lighting up his blue eyes. 

Any offense taken over being tuned out drained from the healer’s face and left confusion in its wake. Their original conversation had been lost to the void now, forgotten and replaced by something else. Anders let their joined hands rest in his lap, fingers laced through fingers tightly with no sign of letting go. “What?” 

“You have freckles,” Hawke murmured in the silence and stillness of the evening as he pointed out a few of them with his free hand, tapping a finger tip to each one in attentive fascination. “And I don’t think I ever noticed them before.” At least, he didn’t think so. Perhaps he had and was simply rediscovering them all over again, as if retracing his steps with new eyes. 

Heat crawled up Anders’ neck and settled comfortably in his face as he huffed, snatching the poking finger. In spite of his efforts to maintain a mask of annoyance, Hawke effortlessly derailing the topic with his findings was endearing. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. The man was hopeless, utterly infatuated, Truthfully, Anders would not have it any other way. “I try to talk about something important and all you can think about is my freckles.”

Hawke was reduced to snickers. Try as he might, his mind was elsewhere. Both of his hands were held captive now, to which there were no complaints. Though they were alone, free from the eyes of judgement or whispers of gossip, there was a little excitement to be had in this exchange. Muffled voices drifted through the undercity as Kirkwall’s restless still stirred even at this hour, but the closed doors of Anders’ clinic afforded the two mages a modicum of privacy. The roguish grin on Hawke’s face would have suggested they were hiding some carefully guarded secret, were he much more shy about his feelings for the healer. 

It was hardly news.

“Yes, but can you honestly blame me?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I can.” At this rate, Anders knew that nothing was going to get done if they continued on. Still, he offered Hawke a beguiling smile even as he warily extracted himself from his redhaired admirer. Disappointment briefly fell across Hawke’s face but he didn’t protest. At least not vocally.

“Now then, the sooner you help me clean up, the sooner we can go home and I might consider showing you just how far down those freckles you like so much go…” 

Whether it was the words he uttered specifically (Maker knows that they were an excellent motivator) or the coy manner in which Anders immediately got to work, back turned and hands already busy, there was a bounce in Wyatt’s step. Face flushed now, he cleared his throat to compose himself and nearly leapt from his seat.

“You just tell me what you need and it’s as good as done!”


End file.
